Love Me Dead
by katietheunicorn
Summary: Rizzoli & Isles are put under pressure when a torrent of stabbing victims occupy the morgue, and their friendship is tested when a very desirable man makes himself known to both of them, but they must remember what their priorities are and look a little too close to home for comfort if they are going to find their killer.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

It was 10am by now, but Detective Jane Rizzoli still could not shake the tiredness from her shoulders, nor could she escape the swirling nausea currently at war with her stomach. She sat hunched over, her elbows resting on her knees, a coffee cup clutched between both hands keeping them warm on this particularly cool March morning. She bent her head and her black mess of hair tumbled in front of her face.

"Hey, Rizzoli," Frost coaxed her head up with his urgency. He was looking at a message on his phone.

Great, thought Jane, not only do I have all this paper work, now somebody's gone and killed someone. It was days like these Jane wished she could just fall asleep for a year; undisturbed by anybody, especially dead bodies.

"Who died?" Jane asked without feeling.

"Multiple stab wounds... Business man... Downtown, that's all I got."

"Kay, let's go," Jane grumbled, grabbing her dark grey blazer from the back of her chair and marching after Frost to his unmarked.

The crime scene was a dingy back alley framed by an ugly apartment building and an even uglier nightclub. Two uniformed officers were already taping off both entrances and backing off the curious crowd from this rough area who were so interested in death they'd come almost immediately.

"Who found the body?" Jane asked one of the unis.

"Uh, that guy," he said, pointing. "Says he's only gonna talk to a Detective Vanilla. Got a screw loose."

Jane sighed and pulled a face before walking over to Rondo, the opposite of thankful now that she'd lose half of today's pay check.

"Hey, Vanilla!" Rondo seemed very excited to see her, which only played on her nerves more.

"What did you see, Rondo?" Jane snapped, though she tried to level her voice.

"Well I was just passing through to look for a snack outside that bar there, when I notice this dude sitting on my turf!"

"That's terrible. I meant _did you see who killed him?_"

"Uh... no."

"Goodbye Rondo," Jane said and started to head back to the dumpster the body was slumped against.

"Hey, wait! Vanilla!"

Jane ignored him, feeling that anything he had to say probably wasn't worth her only twenty right now.

"Any I.D?" she asked Frost, who was holding his head at a very awkward angle as he removed his hand from the vic's pocket with a wallet.

"A Professor Brian Ewell for Boston University–"

"Dr. Ewell? Oh, no!"

"Maura?" Jane turned, surprised to see her friend here. "I thought you were on vacation?"

"I was. But Dr. Pike–" she said his name through gritted teeth "–is feeling 'under the weather' today. So here I am."

"I'm sorry, Maura. So you knew this victim?"

"I knew _of _him. He is a professor of anthropology at the Boston University – if I'd known about him when I was younger I would have just moved here for university, instead of staying close to home."

"Huh. Where did you study?"

"I did my medical degree at Stanford, did my forensics and my residency with San Francisco University."

"Oh. Well, that's good," said Jane, disappointed that she never knew this. Maura and she really were strangers. Still.

"Okay," Maura said, snapping on latex gloves. "Apparent cause of death, multiple stab wounds. There are lacerations on the hands and wrists suggesting a struggle. Liver temp says... he died between three and five hours ago, he's still pretty warm."

"He was stabbed in broad daylight? And nobody saw anything?" Frost muttered.

"Yeah. Friendly neighbourhood," Jane retorted.

"Should we canvass the area?" one of the unis asked.

"Yeah, I was just thinking about that; Korsak's not back till tomorrow..." Jane thought for a moment.

"Go ahead, he can work the computers for us," Jane compromised.

"Really?" Frost asked, and Jane had to let out a quiet chuckle.

"Oh, Maura, your ride's here," Frost announced, spotting the coroner's van pull up in front of the alley's entrance.

"We'll do this autopsy later this afternoon; we'll have to cool him before rigor advances any further."

"Sure thing, Maura," Jane said and left with Frost to arouse some neighbours, inquiring as to whether anyone had seen or heard anything.

It took an hour of 'I ain't seen nothin'!' and 'You wanna talk to Billy the Weasel!' and 'Can I see the body?' before Jane finally gave up and insisted they drive back to the precinct.

"Okay, let's run background on this guy, I wanna know everything about him," Jane said. Frost started typing, searching for anything about this guy online, while Jane phoned the A.D.A requesting a subpoena for the guy's phone records and financials.

When she hung up the phone, Jane resumed her earlier posture; head bent, back slumped, knees apart. She massaged her aching temples and swallowed, once again fighting nausea. She needed something to do, something to occupy her mind and deter it from this sickly path like the crime scene had. Or she just needed to go home and sleep.

"You know what, I'm going to go and see if Maura's found any evidence on that body before she cuts it open."

"Sure thing," Frost said, his eyes never straying from his computer monitor.

Jane grabbed her box of fluff-and-peanut-butter sandwiches and headed for the morgue, where Maura sat in her office munching a salad.

"Hey," Jane greeted the medical examiner as she took a seat across from her.

"Hello, Jane," Maura said happily.

"Huh, you're in a good mood for someone dragged into work when they're supposed to be on vacation," Jane observed.

"Well the truth is I was bored. I thought I'd do all my chores, which I did, plant another herb garden and hop it grows this year, which I did, and read a book or something, which I did. But I can't sit around too long and read."

"Oh, well. Good for you, I guess."

"You look tired."

"Thanks."

"Is there a reason you're not sleeping?"

"No, I am sleeping, I just feel... run down. It's probably just a bug, it'll pass."

Maura eyes her with scrutiny before diving her fork back into her green-filled Tupperware container.

"Anything on the body?" Jane asked, trying to change the subject.

"Truthfully, I haven't even undressed him yet. I told the movers to put him straight in the freezer."

"Oh, no, that's fine; I just needed to get away from my office. It's so busy and... loud." Jane winced as her temple throbbed again.

"Are you alright Jane?"

"Like I said, it'll pass."

"Do you have any other symptoms?"

"Really, Maura, it's nothing."

They ate in silence for a few minutes before Jane's cell phone buzzed in its holder on her belt, announcing a text message.

Jane groaned.

"What is it?" Maura asked.

"Another stabbing victim. This guy's obviously on a mission – killing someone at midday? Isn't he worried people will see? I hope there's a security tape at this one.

"C'mon, I'll drive."


	2. Chapter 2

**Oh my goodness! Thank you all so much for your favourites/alerts, as a many-a-time-failure writer, this is so good to hear! I love each and every one of you; have a loveball with a side of rainbows. In answer to reviews: I have read the book series (I'm on #9!) and so it coincides with that a teensy bit. It basically is in season 3, Maura and Jane are friends again and it's just another case, until it all goes bad, etc, etc. Thank you for asking about the context, because I hadn't thought about it before and I now realise just how important it is; I'll adjust the plot slightly to fit it, too.**

**Thanks guys!**

Chapter 2

Maura carefully surveyed the crime scene as they arrived, trying to mentally connect some dots. The other murder had been in an alley, where no-one would find the body for a while, but this one had taken place in front of a Wharf fronting Atlantic Avenue, right where anyone could see.

"I haven't even done the first autopsy," Maura reminded Jane, "so let's take all the pictures we need and then get him back to the morgue ASAP."

"Sure thing, Doc," Jane said, stepping out of the car and surveying the bigger picture, while Maura remained honed in on the body.

"Dr. Isles," a uni said respectfully and handed her a digital camera.

She started snapping pictures while commenting on the body, the uni frantically jotting down everything she said.

"Caucasian male, appears to be in mid to late thirties. Any I.D?" she turned to the uni.

"We didn't find anything on him. We're canvassing now to see if he worked around here. Whether he did or he didn't, it should give the detectives something to go on."

"Alright. Is the coroner's van on the way?"

"We called him straight after you."

"Okay, great. Thank you officer."

As the uni walked away, Maura bent down to get a closer look at the body. The victim was dressed in clean jeans and a frayed plaid shirt, while Professor Ewell had been dressed in an old but crisp black suit. Pulling on gloves, Maura pulled up the sleeve cuffs of the shirt to reveal only tan lines where clearly there used to be a watch and a tennis bracelet.

"You thinking robbery-homicide?" Jane asked, appearing over Maura's shoulder and casting the body in shadow.

"Maybe, but I'll have a better idea once I open him up. I'm really eager to do the professor now; I want to know the similarities. I don't even know how many wounds there are; the professor's dark jacket would have masked blood, while this man's red shirt doesn't help." Maura thought for a moment, surveying a visible gash in this victim's right arm. "If this was a robbery, why cut his arm? It's unnecessary – brutality for brutality's sake. Wouldn't you run?"

"Yeah, you're right. There's nothing here, by the way. No I.D, he doesn't work nearby, nobody around's ever even seen him before." Jane paused. "I got a bad feeling Maura," she confessed.

"Yes, me too."

By 3pm, Maura was in the morgue and ready to cut. They were only waiting for Jane.

Frost was nearby, having strategically placed himself midway between the table and the sink, should he need to evacuate his stomach in a hurry. Maura made petty notes such as the condition of the victim's skin, hair and teeth into a recorder until Jane arrived.

When Detective Rizzoli did finally push through the doors, her face was flushed and her hair seemed even wilder than before. She tried to smooth it back with her hand, but it rebelliously sprang forward again. She did not look herself and she seemed sicker than she had this morning.

"Are you alright, Jane?" Maura asked, her voice thick with concern.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Why?" Jane sounded perfectly happy, but Maura had become so accustomed to Jane's behaviours and expressions. She looked tired, but that couldn't be what was affecting her so, she'd pulled many an all-nighter in the hope of breaking a case, such as with Amanda Mateo's disappearance last year.

"Okay, I'm about to cut. Are you ready, Frost?" Maura always tried to give the squeamish ones fair notice.

"Yeah, I'm good. Go ahead, Doc."

Maura raised her scalpel and began to etch the Y-incision, revealing a heavy yellow layer of subcutaneous fat. Dr. Ewell clearly did not have the healthiest diet. The intersection of the cuts was lower than usual in order to preserve a stab wound between the third and fourth ribs, no doubt nicking the sternum. Once she reached the pubis, Maura moved to the shoulders again and began to go through the fatty layer, then the muscle layer. At last Dr. Ewell's thoracic cage could be removed, each rib cut through swiftly with a pair of standard garden pruning shears. After that, Maura began resecting the organs, curious as to which were damaged, which wound had been the decisive one, the one that had welcomed death into the body.

"The left lung has been punctured, causing pulmonary edema, but I this is not enough to kill him," Maura told the detectives.

The lungs were weighed, the number noted by Maura's quiet assistant, Yoshima. Next Maura took out the heart, which was inflamed from circulatory shock. Again, though, this did not appear in Maura's professional opinion to have been the cause of death.

"Ah," Maura said triumphantly.

Holding up the right kidney, she scrutinized a wound here that had entered through the victim's back. "This wound induced the circulatory shock, which is fatal. Hypoxemia would have followed. Let me look at the heart."

Maura picked up one of her scarier knives and began to dissect the heart, confirming beliefs that she would not dare voice without sufficient supporting evidence. "Hypoxemia led to cardiac arrest. His heart was already slightly shrunken, so I wouldn't have noticed without dissecting."

"Why was it shrunken?" Frost asked, his voice a little shaky.

"Cardiomyopathy has several causes. If you were to subpoena I could probably tell you which was his, but as it is not essential to your investigation we probably won't find out."

"Okay," Jane said, "why _could _it be shrunken? In theory?"

"Well, we _could _attribute it to a previous heart attack, alcoholism, even a viral infection. But I am not going to guess what caused Professor Ewell's."

Jane smiled at Maura for what seemed like the first time in an age.

By the time Maura had cleared the abdominal cavity, it was 4pm. Yoshima wielded the bone saw while Maura stood ready to accept the brain. Frost, at this point, turned away. The brain was quickly placed in a bucket of formalin to prepare it for analysis.

The professor's clothes and personal possessions were placed into evidence bags, which Frost quickly volunteered to run upstairs. Meanwhile, the second body was wheeled out and undressed. Rigor had set in enough that his vest had to be cut off.

"John Doe, mid to late thirties, Caucasian..." Maura relayed details into the tape recorder while Yoshima set up the X-Ray machine.

By now it was 4:30pm. Maura heard Jane's stomach rumble, and was reminded of her pitiful salad lunch. Maura was just about to pick up a fresh scalpel when Jane's phone buzzed and she pulled it from her hip to read the message.

"It's from Frost," she said, and looked up at Maura, who had already put down her scalpel and was beginning to untie her gown.

It's going to be a long night, Maura thought.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

The third crime scene definitely confused Jane Rizzoli. The other stabbings had appeared to be crimes of opportunity – a hidden alley, a wharf with an isolated sidewalk; but this? This was something new entirely. It irritated Jane terribly that she could not connect the incidences. She reminded herself that after three killings, it is generally pointless to consider a motive, but it still played on her mind.

James Connolly was smartly dressed and sported a very shiny Rolex on his left wrist. He was killed in the elevator in his own office; his body had been found by a very flustered blonde intern who'd been sitting glass-eyed on the curb ever since, trying to hold back nausea.

Maura bent over the body, compressing the abdomen to judge the internal damage, the positioning of the stab wounds. Her team had already arrived and were waiting with a gurney, but she insisted on examining him before he entered cold storage.

There were several bystanders gathered around – workers from Connolly's law firm, sales reps from the real estate business run from the ground floor office, clients of each firm and a few maintenance staff. Jane's theory at the moment was that Connolly had been killed in the elevator – the blood spatter was definitely consistent with that – and his murderer had fled onto one of the many floors between Connolly's sixth floor space and this pristine reception area.

"He's coming out of rigor, want us to break him?" one of the coroner's staff asked, heaving with his colleague to raise the victim from the floor on a stretcher.

Jane turned from the front office doors to see Maura sigh as she answered the question with the weary tone of a much-repeated sentence. "No, put him on his side."

As Maura turned to face her, Jane smiled, nostalgia making an appearance as she remembered all their crime scenes together, all the times she'd repeated that phrase. Jane snapped off her gloves as Maura did, knowing that they didn't have much hope of finding convicting evidence in such a public place.

Maura scrutinised Jane in a way that made her feel uncomfortable, but the doctor seemed to think better of once again asking if she was feeling alright. Together they walked to Maura's Prius and climbed inside, welcoming its softness after such a long day. It was a full twenty-minute drive back to the police building, and Maura was startled to find upon arrival that Jane had slipped into a steady sleep in what appeared to be a very uncomfortable position; she was slouched low in her seat and had her arms folded across her belly, her chin resting on her clavicle. More than anything, Maura wanted to leave Jane in peace, to deal with whatever it was that was making her so run-down, but she knew they had work to do, so she leaned across the gearshift and gently shook Jane's shoulder with one hand, reaching around to raise her head with the other.

Jane startled awake and grabbed Maura's wrist so suddenly and with such force that Maura jumped in surprise, letting escape a quiet yelp. "Maura?" Jane mumbled, her voice thick with sleep. "Sorry," she said, freeing Maura's hand.

"That's okay. Jane, I'm worried about you. You're the only detective in the building that can pull a forty-eight-hour case, what's going on?"

"I'm really not sure, Maura," Jane said, her face contorting in puzzlement.

"Well, let's start by feeding you," Maura suggested, and they clambered out of the car to head into the cafeteria, where Angela met them with such warmth.

"Jeez, Jane, what the Hell happened to you?" Angela cried once she saw her daughter walk inside.

Jane pulled a face, announcing a silent "Really?" and Maura laughed, glad that her friend seemed to once again be resembling her old self.

"Angela she's just hungry, we've been busy all day," Maura tried to stick up for Jane, but Angela obviously wasn't convinced.

"It's lasagne today," Angela told them.

"That's great, Ma, thanks," Jane said as she shuffled over to the coffee machine and looked through the windows at the cloudy sky as it slid between dusk and night. Angela should be clocking off very soon, she thought. She added her usual heap of sugar to take some edge of bitterness out of the appalling coffee here before carrying it to the table Maura sat at.

"Maura?" Jane asked softly.

"Yes?" Maura's curiosity had been seized.

"I..." Jane sighed. "I've been meaning to ask... for a while, but... Have you heard from... your father?"

Maura's mind seemed to jerk as she heard Jane ask, but she realised quickly how Jane had tried to soften the topic. She didn't want to hurt Maura, that much was obvious.

"I only spoke to his doctors. It looks like he'll be well enough to transfer soon."

Jane noticed how detached Maura sounded and decided not to pursue the difficult subject further; she nodded while she attempted to come up with another topic of conversation.

"Here you go!" Angela cheerily announced the arrival of dinner, all worried about Jane's appearance mercifully forgotten.

It wasn't until a piece of steaming pasta stroked Jane's tongue did she realise how hungry she was, and she quickly dug into her cube, burning her mouth in her haste. And though she complained about her mother all the time – her busy-body, invasive character, the fact that they worked in the same place – it could not be denied that Angela was a fantastic cook, and were it not for her, Stanley would have had to go months back.

"You look better," Maura said with a smile and a note of relief, watching the colour return to Jane's cheeks.

Jane could just manage a smile around her full mouth.

Though they both knew that good things must always end to be seconded by work, the two women were disappointed to leave the comforts of the cafeteria and head down to the morgue to complete the second autopsy, on one John Doe. Once gowned and gloved, they pushed through the yellow doors and headed past Professor Ewell's corpse, which had been neatly stitched up by Yoshima, to the second table, where their victim lay with an apparent scowl across his jaw. Maura's assistant had already removed his clothes and, most likely with the help of the lab techs, broken rigor mortis. The coroner's staff placed a tag on the third victim's toe on the last remaining table before departing to the loading area without another word.

Maura went through her usual proceedings, stating into the recorder approximate height, weight, age, race and name, before she raised her scalpel and deftly sliced through layers of skin, fat and muscle in order to gain access to glistening organs and blackened blood.

Jane witnessed her go through the same procedure as with the first body, weighing organs, cutting vessels, retrieving jars of formalin. By now it was 7pm, and Yoshima had long since gone home. Maura wielded the bone saw herself, and expertly caught the brain and slid it into a bucket of formalin in one swift movement.

"Okay, Jane, this man was definitely killed by the same person as Dr. Ewell. There is bruising from the hilt of the knife – it was thrust into the body with extreme force. In the X-Rays of Dr. Ewell you can see very small metal fragments, and I found a large one in this man's liver. It is pointed, and I would be prepared to hypothesise that it is from a knife blade, but you are _not _to take that as solid fact until I have the metals run," Maura warned. "And most decisively, this man died from a stab to the kidney, which sent the body into circulatory shock and induced cardiac arrest."

"Okay. So we have a serial – provided Connolly was killed in the same way. But why these victims? A lawyer, a professor and this man, who likely was a dock worker. It doesn't sit right with me, Maura, I've got a bad feeling."

"Me, too," Maura agreed. "Come to my office," she instructed.

Maura sat at her desk and began to type up the autopsy report while Jane sat heavily on the sofa across the room and tried to build a theory out loud, hitting a dead end quickly with each bizarre tale. "Maybe there's just a psycho butcher running around," she finally said, resigned.

Ignoring her comment other than to smile and shake her head, Maura continued tapping on her keyboard.

"Ah, Dr. Isles and Detective Rizzoli, I assume?" said a deep male voice from the doorway. Both women looked up at a tall, dark and handsome man in a smart suit with a pair of aviators hooked in his breast pocket.

"Yeah, who the Hell are you?" Jane asked rudely.

"My name is Zack Poole and you may want to be nicer to me now that I'm assigned to your case," suggested Zack Poole, holding up an FBI badge.

Jane sighed and slumped, sending Maura her most pissed-off look.

"Could this day get _any _worse?"


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Jane sat at her desk, slugging through the mundane task of writing up the crime scene reports now that CSU had finished cataloguing everything and Hair & Fibre had turned up a whole lot of nothing.

"Huh, cool," Poole enthused, picking up Jane's imitation ivory elephant.

"Stop," Jane ordered coldly, snatching the elephant and gently setting it next to her computer monitor.

"Where'd you get it?"

"It was a present from Maura," Jane put no inflection in her voice, trying to repel the guy with obvious dislike.

"Cool," he said again.

Jane slapped down her pen in frustration and glared up at him. "You're a fibbie; don't you have someone else to bother? What's so important about stabbings anyway?" Now it was difficult for Jane just to moderate her voice, and to keep from shouting it came out in a hiss. This guy was like a nine-year-old on a sugar rush, incapable of taking anything seriously. She wondered how the Hell he'd made it into the feds, considering their usual grey-suit, hard-ass characters.

"Well, it's a very high-profile case. The public wants to know if it's a serial, and two of your victims had a very high place in society," Poole explained. Finally a mature sentence had escaped his lips.

For two minutes they sat in silence, Jane finishing up with the paperwork while Poole picked at the old fibres that made up the dull, scratchy cloth that covered the seat at the side of her desk. Jane's rough scrawl quickly dragged across the pages, summing up each scene and the suspected nature of death, leaving an opening for the autopsy report. At last, her signature filled the box at the bottom of the page and she stood. "Come on, let's go see the last autopsy," she said grudgingly, stomping over to the elevator without giving Poole a second glance. Once at basement level, she marched into Maura's office, again ignoring Poole completely.

Maura, like Jane, was finishing some paperwork, signing off typed and printed autopsy reports and stacking them in a neat pile. When they entered, Maura's expression faltered at the site of Jane's expression of barely-contained anger and Poole's swagger as he sauntered in like he owned the place.

"Are you ready to start the autopsy?" Jane said in a very tight voice. She was clearly struggling to prevent from an outburst.

"Yes. Will Agent Poole be observing?" Maura tried to remain polite and formal.

"Unfortunately, yes," Jane said, without offering the same courtesy.

"Glad you like me so much already, Jane," Poole said.

Jane flexed her jaw in response. "Detective Rizzoli," she corrected.

Poole winked at Maura as Jane crossed Maura's office to the door that led into the autopsy room. Maura pulled her brows down so as to say 'don't push it.' Poole seemed to get the message and crossed to the autopsy room, his hands in his pockets and his gait as casual as if he were merely entering the cafeteria.

Outside the basement room's high, short windows the sky was black. Normally the occasional pair of feet walked by, and Maura and Jane sometimes created fantasy characters by judging the shoes they wore.

Jane yawned as she donned a gown and latex gloves and settled her eyelids for a moment. Maura continued to worry; Jane always remained stoic, never revealing a single weakness, even tiredness, but Maura thought it best not to ask with another person present, especially an FBI agent whom Jane was so clearly was trying to covertly flip off.

Scrubbed and gowned, Maura approached the body and picked up her tape recorder, which Jane had put in a clear, sterile bag. Jane had also brought over Maura's instrument tray and set out each tool as Maura preferred to order them. They were so in sync; Jane knew Maura's habits better than Yoshima did, though she'd worked with him far longer. As Maura began to speak and tell the recorder her usual boring, repetitive scores of information, Jane positioned herself prepared to turn the body to allow Maura a glance at its back. Maura smiled a little at just how well Jane knew her and her procedures.

Placing the recorder on a clear instrument tray, Maura helped Jane roll the body. They set him back down and started to remove his clothes, fighting with rigor to pull at them. When he was finally nude, they both went to the sink to replace their gloves so as not to contaminate the victim's internal organs with toxins from his clothing, though Jane couldn't see Connolly settling for anything less than perfection when it came to his $800 suit.

Reaching for a syringe and various coloured vials, blood was drawn from the femoral artery, the stagnant liquid flowing almost black and terribly thick. Maura was not surprised to see a frenzy of stab wounds, just the same as the other victims. In this case, she had to curve the incision she made from the right shoulder to preserve a slice into Connolly's pectoral.

"Oh, I forgot to ask if you did the X-Rays," Jane said.

"I did them while you were writing up, but not so many views as normal; I need Yoshima for those."

"I can help," Jane offered.

"Thanks, Jane, but I need a qualified radiation tech with me, sorry."

"Sure," Jane said, shrugging. She was more interested in the body anyway, specifically the kidneys, and organs wouldn't have shown up on the X-Rays.

"Well, I don't need to tell you there's evidence of sharp force trauma, that's evident even deep in his thoracic cavity. A few ribs are chipped, too. Jane, roll him toward me."

They log-rolled the body onto its right side and Maura bent over it to view the back. "Stab wound right where the kidney will be," she observed.

"Maybe we're looking at a contract killer, Maura," Jane suggested. "I mean, the other two were killed with a stab to the kidney, the other wounds were just for show. If this is the same... and there's no forensic evidence – not a hair, not a print, not a shred of DNA. This guy is good – he's a professional."

"I... I think you're right Jane, but you know I don't like to guess."

"How do you know it's a man?" Poole finally spoke up.

"All three victims are presenting with wounds that would have taken a lot of force, there is bruising from the hilt of the weapon, and ribs and vertebrae have been chipped and broken. Jane, I got the results on the metal fragments – it's definitely from a knife blade of some description. The techs are trying to make a possible model based on the depth and structure of each wound."

"Maura, I know I already said this but my cop gut is really giving me some bad vibes."

"I know, Jane, I don't like it either."

They stood in silence while Maura completed the autopsy, resecting the organs and analysing each one, sawing open the skull and placing the brain in formalin, sewing together the Y-incision.

"Well this has been a long day," Jane said wearily.

"Definitely, when was the last time we had three stabbings in one day?" Maura replied.

"Well, don't get too excited, maybe tomorrow will be National Gunshot Day," Jane joked, though it was a very half-hearted impression of her usual wit. She was very tired; Maura had not forgotten that she fell asleep in the car on the way over here.

"I think we should all go home," Maura said, giving Jane a fond smile. "Agent Poole," she regarded him, and he took the hint, saluting them farewell and pushing through the double doors.

"He is _so _irritating," Jane said.

Maura laughed. "Give him a break; you detectives are always so hard on FBI agents."

"Because they always steal our crimes and push in on our turf!" Jane protested with a very popular complaint.

They went into Maura's office and sat on the tribal-inspired couch, Jane taking off her boots and pulling up one leg in her usual strange position.

"Jane, I know I keep saying it, but something is wrong. What is it?" Maura looked at Jane very analytically, and Jane slightly resented that nothing got past Maura, though of course she was grateful that her friend cared enough and knew enough about her to spot these things.

"Guess I'm just a little run-down, is all. You know, long hours, irregular meals. I just need some dinner and a good night's rest," Jane assured her.

Maura feigned acceptance, but she was almost certain there was more to it than that. She scooted over and put her arm around Jane, who leaned in for a warm and welcome hug, though she certainly wouldn't have hugged anybody else, except maybe her mother if she was having a particularly hard day.

It wasn't until the next morning when Poole found them sleeping in each other's arms that they realised just how late it had gotten.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Jane felt her cheeks burn as she sat up, her eyes still heavy from sleep, and pulled on her boots. Maura looked very dishevelled: her hair stuck up in various locations, her designer blouse was creased, and she'd somehow managed to ladder her flesh-coloured tights.

Poole stood looking at them. He was clearly trying his best not to laugh, but his raised eyebrows and his smirk just radiated smugness and I-know-what-you've-been-up-to.

The way she figured, Jane would never live this one down. She'd have detective Crowe pulling stunts for the next month, not to mention rumours and whispers, and the more Jane denied it, the more they'd disbelieve her. She could not win. First, it was homicide detective and chief medical examiner catfights, now it'd be homicide detective and chief medical examiner 'sexual relations.' When there hadn't even been any. Jane could see that she was just going to get frustrated. Very quickly.

"Guess we fell asleep..." Maura said, looking very surprised at the outcome.

"No kidding," Jane replied sarcastically.

Poole still did not say anything, and this worried Jane. "What, no jokes to crack? I thought all jerks like you made fun of whatever you saw. Last I heard, the full story doesn't matter," she tried to get him to ask for the full story. Hoped she could persuade him she was straight. She already knew he wouldn't buy it, though.

"Oh, I think I have the full story," he said at last, fighting laughter so hard his Adam 's apple bobbed.

"Yeah, you would, wouldn't you? I'm not sleeping with my best friend – that's what you think, isn't it?" Jane ground her teeth together. Why did _he_ have to find them? Frost wouldn't have made a big deal out of it. Hell, even Korsak would probably let them off the hook after a few meaningless jokes.

I will never hear the end of this, Jane thought.

"Jane," Maura said quietly. When Jane looked up, Maura tipped her head towards the door. Time for a quick escape. Jane agreed.

They marched out of Maura's office, Jane sending Poole a look of poison the whole way. Maura went to push open the bathroom door, but Jane pulled on her elbow and just steered her to the loading bay, knowing that her unmarked was closer because Frost had parked in front of her. She thanked him silently.

Jane definitely hit a few traffic violations on the way and Maura looked scared out of her skin by the time they finally reached Jane's apartment. "No, I'm not wearing your clothes," Maura said unapologetically, remembering the blandness of Jane's closet.

"Relax, you left some dress here last time we met for a run, remember?"

"Yes! The Donna Karan! Oh, that's good," Maura sounded very relieved.

Jane looked at Maura. "Really?"

Maura smiled as they entered the building. Maura showered first while Jane whipped up some eggs, hoping not to spend too long here as Poole had only found them half an hour before Jane's shift, but she had worked late last night, so she had a feeling Cavanaugh would let her off. As she thought once again about falling asleep beside Maura, she dropped her forehead into her hand and rubbed her brow bones. And Poole? Really? Already she felt stuck in a rut, hating the same aspects of it. Mostly hating Poole.

"Is that for me?" Maura said, emerging from the hall looking ready for a photo shoot. She seemed unfazed by everything. "Good job I left this here," she said.

"Sure is," Jane said without inflection.

"Jane, are you okay?" Maura asked, though her tone suggested that she knew how much Jane was going to suffer for this.

"This is going to be a bitch," Jane said, already resigned to the fact.

"I'm sorry, Jane."

"No, it's okay. How much worse could it possibly be?"

Maura pressed her lips together. She really didn't want to answer that question.

Jane showered and let the hot water unknot her muscles, aching from Maura's awful couch. She stood there for a little while, just soaking in water and steam and the scent of lavender soap before she climbed out and dressed in a turquoise T-Shirt and grey pants. The sun seemed less shy today, so she stuffed her jacket into her bag, knowing it would probably just sit under her desk unworn.

"Are you ready?" Jane asked as she stepped into the living room and started for her boots.

"Sure," Maura said, leaving her plate in the sink. "Do you mind if I leave my other dress here? It seems to me a good idea. Just wash it at eighty, please; I don't want it to shrink."

"Yes, mother, can we go now?" Jane complained and Maura smiled and shook her head.

They arrived back at the precinct just twenty minutes into Jane's working day, and Jane's stomach churned when she thought about what Poole could have said by now. She could predict that he and Crowe would probably have hit it off anyway, and now they'd have something to join forces over.

Maura headed straight to the basement and Jane climbed the stairs to the homicide office, where Frost and Korsak were looking at credit reports. They each had a coffee and had put one out for her, too. "Thanks, guys," she said in greeting. She hoped to determine what they'd heard from their initial reaction to her.

"Hey, Jane, look at this," Korsak said and pointed over Frost's shoulder at the computer screen. Numbers scrolled up in a long list of various transactions over the last twelve months. "What am I supposed to be looking at?" Jane asked, seeing nothing anomalous.

Frost clicked on a row and highlighted it. "Bingo," Frost said.

"Yahtzee," Jane responded. Frost shook his head with a look of disappointment and Korsak laughed. Jane smiled.

The transaction showed an influx of cash, nine-thousand five-hundred dollars. "That seems pretty specific," Frost said.

"Sure, they only have to report it if it's over ten grand. Do the others have it?"

"Boop, boop," Frost indicated two other windows triumphantly and pointed out the same figures entering two accounts on the same day.

"Wait, you identified John Doe?"

"Oh, yeah, sorry," Korsak said. "It was Frost's idea."

"I'm just on a roll today," Frost said with his joke narcissism. Jane elbowed him so he would explain. "We e-mailed all the banks in a ten-mile radius from where John Doe was found and asked them if they had any ninety-five hundred cash payments. Five got back to us with footage, and here he is, in a bank not ten minutes from where his body was found."

"Huh," Jane said, thinking that that seemed kind of lucky. "Did you see the others?"

"No, but remember they were found in different areas," Korsak said.

Jane suddenly realised what was missing. "Where's Poole, shouldn't he be butting in?" she asked bitterly.

"Last I saw he was headed down to see Maura, before shift," Frost said.

"Why were you here early?"

"I was just awake. Figured I'd contact the banks early."

Jane sat at her desk and reviewed the camera footage that had been sent to them, spotting John Doe – or Will Robinson – in a bland, grey lobby. All the transactions had been made in cash on the same day for the same amount, and it was clear to Jane that it all had to be connected. The three men had been working together. Some illegal business: racketeering, or maybe drug distribution. But then that did not fir the character profile. An esteemed professor, a high-earning lawyer and a storage-wharf worker – what could they possibly be into together? Each must have something the other needed, or things wouldn't work out. Perhaps there was a fourth party, and he killed his partners. Or maybe there was an unhappy customer who lashed out, or a stranger who'd been conned.

"We need something else – we can't even confirm a motive at this point," Jane said.

"Maybe we could subpoena their mail, or something?" Frost suggested.

"Naw, no-one sends letters anymore," Korsak shot down the idea.

"Well, phone records, at least," Jane said.

"Yeah, we're just waiting on Robinson's at the moment, we only filed for it a half hour ago."

Jane sat quietly a little while longer, rubbing her hands.

"Stop that," Korsak said and very gently pulled her right hand away from the other one.

Jane smiled sadly up at him, his face very stoic. She put her hands palm-down on the desk to show she wouldn't do it again. The skin around her scars had gone a little pink.

"Okay, then, I'll..." Jane thought about how she could occupy her mind. At last, she sighed. "I guess I'll go see Maura," she decided.

She prayed that Poole was gone already.


End file.
